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Women are the most glorious and complex creatures on earth.  They defy explanation.  Their abilities are exceeded only by their compassion and ability to nurture.  They bring life into the world and risk everything they have to assure it survives at all costs.

Men?  Not so much.  We’re involved in the new life equation, as well.  But mostly as bystanders who were invited to the party, enjoyed the buffet and then snuck out before the place had to be cleaned up.  Men are simple creatures.  In fact, most are happy with a combination of beer and boobs.  Preferably six of one and two of the other, but men aren’t all that concerned with math.  “It all comes out in the wash,” most of us would say.

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Armed with that basic information, six businessmen went into business together to open a new business establishment on April 1, 1983.  Lynn Stewart, Gil DiGiannantonio, Ed Droste, Billy Ranieri, Ken Wimmer and Dennis Johnson chose that day to incorporate as an April Fool’s joke.  None of them thought the enterprise would survive, much flourish.  They underestimated the simplicity of men.

The location of the business was the first thing it had going against it.  The site they purchased was an old night club that had gone out of business, as had all the other establishments that had occupied the space before the night club.  But they picked it up at a steal because the location was so poor.  In fact, before even opening the business they built a “grave yard” at the entrance showing what they thought their chances of success to be.

Nonetheless, the very first “Hooters” opened on October 4, 1983 in Clearwater, Florida.  The interior was decked out with old collectibles from Waverly, Iowa, home of several of the six men who had pooled their resources to open it.  A year and change later, the original six founders sold their restaurant to an investor named Robert H. Brooks.

Brooks must have felt the original six were on to something to have bought them out.  Indeed, they were.  Brooks took their basic concept (think: Beer and Boobs) and turned it into the Hooters brand that expanded to 425 locations worldwide before he died in 2006.

Of course the key to the success of the business was more attributable to the ‘Boobs’ part of the equation than perhaps the ‘Beer’ side of things.  You can get a cold beer damn near anywhere.  Hooters Girls became a part of American culture.  Girls that were attired in standard outfits that guaranteed to bring male customers back time and again, but not stripped down to the point that the establishments would be defined as “gentlemen’s clubs” and doomed to reputations like The Scuttlebutt here in Fort Stockton.

In fact, with a wink and a nod, Hooters became places that little league teams could be welcomed at after tournaments, grandparents could be treated to when they came in front of out in rural areas for a meal with the family, and wives would tolerate, if not encourage.

Sure, baptist preachers might put up a stink if one tried to open within a thousand feet of the local high school.  But in the end, it wouldn’t be uncommon to see any number of the elders there at the conclusion of a meeting of the finance committee.  Of course, “We just go for the food,” would be the argument, just like PLAYBOY being read for the articles.

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Hooter’s management knew what worked and did everything they could to capitalize on it, as any well run business does.  Boobs sold beer.  More boobs sold even more beer.  Fast forward to 2001.  The manager of the Panama City Beach Hooters unveiled a contest for the Hooters Girls at his location to see who could sell the most beer.  The Hooters Girl who recorded the highest total of beer sales in a given period would win a new Toyota.

Jodee Berry, aged 27 at the time, was known for a couple things.  Sure, those, but also her willingness to accept a challenge.  She stepped up to the plate, gave it her best, and knocked it out of the park.  She won the competition hands down.  Now, I’m speculating about this part, but I assume Jodee had a loyal following of regular customers who did all they could to help her out.  They went above and beyond their normal appetite for all that Hooters had to offer in order to assure she could take the victory lap at the conclusion of the contest.  Who, after all, wouldn’t want to see their favorite Hooters Girls take a lap around something?

When the results of beer sales were tallied, Jodee was Declared the Winner with a double D.  Customers cheered.  Fellow Hooters Girls congratulated her for her massive efforts.  She was blindfolded and led to the parking lot for the dramatic unveiling of the prize she’d worked so hard for.  Once in the parking lot, with the crowd looking on, the blindfold was removed to the enthusiastic response of everyone gathered.

In front of Jodee, when the blindfold was removed, was a new toy Yoda — the little green character from the “Star Wars” movies.

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Jodee Berry had many fine qualities, no doubt.  You don’t sell more beer than any other Hooters Girl without being in possession of some admirable attributes.  In Jodee’s case, that did not include an unlimited sense of humor.  “Pissed she was,” as Yoda would say.

“Hell hath no fury,” the saying goes, “as a woman scorned.”  Jodee had been screwed out of her winnings, she felt.  And she was, by god, a woman scorned.

The manager, Jared Blair, the business genius who had come up with the idea of the contest and benefited from the soaring sales of suds it spawned, declared that the whole thing had only been a joke.  Jodee was not laughing.

In fact, she was so unamused that she quit her job and hired David Noll to represent her in a lawsuit against Gulf Coast Wings, Inc., the restaurant’s corporate owner, alleging breach of contract and fraudulent misrepresentation.

The last thing anyone wants when it comes to beer or boobs is fraudulent misrepresentation.

The judge must have been impressed with Jodee’s points.  In a settlement that was reached, her attorney was quoted as only saying, “Berry can now go to a local car dealership and “pick out whatever type of Toyota she wants.”

It was never disclosed exactly which model she selected.  However, I like to think that given her fondness for living large, her desire to leave the competition in the dust, and her willingness to show off a little, she went top shelf.  I like to think that she strode onto the lot in a tight white T-shirt, skimpy orange shorts, and walked right up to a 2001 Toyota Land Cruiser finished in Champagne Pearl over Ivory leather and powered by a 4.7-liter 2UZ-FE V8 linked to a four-speed automatic transmission, a dual-range transfer case, and a locking center differential. Hopefully, the truck had a power sunroof, fog lights, 16″ five-spoke alloy wheels, heated front seats, folding third-row seats, cruise control, and automatic climate control, and navigation.   I like to think that with her attorney looking on, and the CFO from Gulf Coast Wings, Inc. looking on with his checkbook in hand, Jpodee said, “Yeah.  This one.  The most expensive one on the lot.”

I’m relatively sure that her regular customers would agree that Jodee is completely worthy of Ivory leather covers the heated and power-adjustable front seats, second-row bench, and split-folding third-row seats, and amenities include cruise control, automatic climate control, a cassette stereo, and navigation.

Of course, that was all 20+ years ago, too.  Truth be told, if it was still in the original box, the Toy-Yoda would be worth more on the open market than the Toyota Land Cruiser.

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